The online home of the self-published comics & prose anthology, Warrior27, an homage to Britain's early-80s comic magazine, Warrior - along with the various writings, musings, and miscellany of Dan Fleming and Chris Beckett.

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Friday, November 25, 2016

Conceived and used with the
permission of Matthew Constantine and Brad Gullickson, the original dorks.

Everyone has a “Top 5.” But Brad and Matt, along with fellow dorks,
Darren, Lisa, and Bryan, choose to walk a different path, and amended that to
“A Fistful…” with their blog and podcast, In the Mouth of Dorkness. Topics range from “Heroic Kids” to “Spies” to
“Summer Movies” to “Punches” to all things in between. Always fun, often insightful, and something I
have regularly pilfered for Warrior27.
As they say: If you’re going to steal, steal from those you know relatively well,
who will not sue you.

Alan Moore is lauded as the
greatest writer ever to work in the comic book medium. Known for his use of literary techniques,
such as foreshadowing and symbolism, meticulous plotting, and a facility of
language rarely matched by other writers, regardless of medium, Moore is
best-known as the author—in collaboration with a host of phenomenal artistic
talents—of such books as V for Vendetta, Watchmen, Saga of the Swamp Thing,
League of Extraordinary Gentlemen, Halo Jones, Tom Strong, Promethea, Lost
Girls, and From Hell. But he’s also crafted
many stories that have not received as much attention as these hallmarks. Here, for your consideration, are a fistful
of lesser-known Alan Moore comics that you may wish to check out, in no
particular order. Because, generally
speaking, if Moore is involved, they’re going to be good, and most likely will
end up being great…but I may be biased.

SECRET ORIGINS #10 [DC Comics, 1986]

“Footsteps,” a Phantom Stranger Origin, with artist Joe Orlando—

In “Footsteps,” Moore, along with
artist Joe Orlando, share one of four origin stories of the Phantom
Stranger. In 10 pages, Moore and Orlando
relate the story of an angel who was called to join the rebellion of Lucifer. But this unnamed angel found it difficult to
decide upon which side he should ally himself, uncertain of the righteousness
of Lucifer, while also wavering as to the great Yahweh’s leadership. But deep down, it is his fear of choosing
wrongly that drives this angel. And, in
the end, he fails to choose either side, leading to exile from both the worlds
of Heaven and of Hell. Owing to this, he
must walk alone, traveling the Earth, doing what he can to right wrongs and
succor the oppressed—a Phantom Stranger, there for those in need.

Moore & Orlando interweave this
narrative with a complementary tale of a present-day gang member being courted
by one among their ranks who wishes to overthrow their leader. In the end, this young man (or, boy, really)
fails to choose sides. When he tries to
find allies with the rebels—who were handily thrown out of the gang by the
leader and his loyalists—he is greeted with scorn, subjected to pain. Thankfully, the Phantom Stranger is there, at
the end, offering his hand, as well as his very personal understanding for what
this young man now faces.

Moore, along with Peter Bagge, tell
the life story of the Kool-Aid Man, who was just a little different than the
rest of his family. Thank goodness his
father finally drew a face on his glass-jar head, otherwise who knows what
might have been.

Over the course of just 4 pages,
Moore & Bagge reveal how being misunderstood by his family leads to the
Kool-Aid Man’s life as a struggling writer and his experiments with the
counter-culture scene, where he met the likes of Ken Kesey, Tom Wolfe, and
Hunter S. Thompson. His off-color
activities lead to a breach of contract suit put forth by the soft drink
company employing him, which only makes things worse for the Kool-Aid Man.

Bagge’s overly cartoonish style
works perfectly for this satire. His
characters all look as if they walked out of a distorted funhouse mirror, and
within this milieu—which is all Bagge—Kool-Aid Man fits in perfectly. It’s a tragicomedy, full of the trademark wit
and sly humor expected from the likes of Moore and Bagge, which feels like a
far longer tale than the four pages given over to it. Another surprising treat for any Moore
aficionados.

ANYTHINGS GOES! #2 [Fantagraphics Books, 1986]

“In Pictopia,” with artist Don Simpson—

When Fantagraphics was in the
middle of a costly litigation, in the mid-1980s, they produced a benefit comic
book, titled Anything Goes!, which they sold to offset legal costs. A who’s who of comic talent contributed to
this series, and in issue #2, Moore teamed with Don Simpson for “In Pictopia.” Originally an 8-page script, Simpson expanded
it to 13 pages and it’s one of the best things Moore has ever collaborated
on.

Through this baker’s dozen of pages
we follow Nocturno the Necromancer as he makes his way through the city of
Pictopia, home to all the comic characters (both comic book and comic strip
characters) you’ve ever known (even if they go unnamed, due to copyright). We see the slums, where “funny animals” live
and allow people to beat them for fun (since they regenerate afterwards), in
order to make money. In the bars are the
superheroic types, including characters like the Phantom and Popeye. And an analogue of Dagwood’s bride, Blondie,
is seen, very early, taking an old sailor up to her apartment, forced to
prostitute herself out for money, now that the popularity of her classic comic
strip is no longer in vogue. In the end,
Nocturno’s old friend, Flexible Flynn (a Plastic Man analogue), is rejuvenated
(or rebooted) into a muscular, testosterone-laden caricature of the character
he once was, sending Nocturno into the streets, in search of some kind of
solace, only to find that the funny animal slums have been bulldozed.

This short story benefits,
tremendously, from Simpson’s art. Known
mainly—or, mainly to me, at least—as a comedy cartoonist, from his work on
Megaton Man. “In Pictopia” reveals his
versatility. Adept in multiple styles,
Simpson not only delineates the funny animals in a manner reminiscent of those
classic comic strips, particularly Disney comics, but he also masterfully
creates superheroes in the mode of Marvel and DC Comics of the 1980s, with
muscle-laden supermen and lithe, curvaceous superwomen. His ability to skillfully work within these
varied styles is what sells this story, and makes it as lasting and important a
comic as it is.

For Moore’s part—this is as smartly
written a critique of the comic medium as you will find, and it’s all told
through the very same medium it critiques.
As with any Moore-penned tale, the dialogue and descriptions roll
smoothly across your tongue, while both entertaining and enlightening readers—in
this instance, providing a visual metaphor of how the “grim & gritty”
approach, fostered by simplistic, surface readings of the comic work of Moore
(particularly Watchmen) and Frank Miller, led to a more violent and more
“relevant” storytelling approach in comics, which lacked the characterization
and depth of narrative these two creators and their collaborators were aspiring
to. Certainly, one might see some of the
metaphor as lacking in nuance, but maybe that was what was called for, because
nobody (or very few) artists and writers seemed to get the message.

“Shadowplay: The Secret Team” in Brought to Light, with artist
Bill Sienkiewicz

[Eclipse Books, 1989]—

Alan Moore & Bill
Sienkiewicz—two legends of the comic book industry. With Shadowplay,
Moore & Sienkiewicz relate the thirty year war the CIA has perpetrated upon
the United States Constitution, through its machinations across the globe. Utilizing a lawsuit brought by the Christic
Institute, along with other primary sources, these two artists distill into 32
pages the drug smuggling, assassinations, coups, double dealings, and myriad
other illegal activities the CIA have condoned and enacted, from the 1950s to then-present
1988, in order to steer international sociopolitical actions, while expanding
their power across the globe. It is a
terrifying and overwhelming narrative, one that feels ripped from a bad spy
thriller. And yet, for all that, it also
feels far too real.

Moore & Sienkiewicz choose to
tell their narrative through the eyes of America (the real America, the strong
America, not the whiny, liberal, Commie-loving pansies who would constrict our
nation’s influence abroad), in the embodiment of a bald eagle who enjoys Cuban
cigars, hard liquor, and loose women.
The narrative is told as if you, the reader, just stumbled into a bar
and found the Eagle already going on to the barman, as he enjoys his
whiskey. Seeing you, the Eagle starts to
spill his guts, going on about all the CIA has done to achieve its foothold on
the international scene, much of it done behind a curtain of secrecy. We learn of people such as Oliver North and
Richard Secord, and of the CIA involvement in the Vietnam War and the
Iran-Contra affair. It’s chilling,
thanks in no small part to the subject matter, a feeling that is heightened by
the artistry of Sienkiewicz, whose mastery of staging, cartooning, and
symbolism wonderfully complement Moore’s writing.

This is a must-read, especially now. And,
if you prefer something less visual and can find it, Moore produced a spoken
word CD, with musician Gary Lloyd, of this same story, and his thick,
melancholic voice only accentuates the horror revealed within this narrative.

A Small Killing, with artist Oscar Zarate

[VG Graphics, 1991; reprinted by Avatar Press, 2003]—

It’s 1989, and Timothy Hole
(pronounced “holly”) is on the cusp of a career-changing, and possibly
career-defining, enterprise. He is to
create the advertising campaign for Flite,
an American soda, as they introduce their product to a newly opened
Russia. But Hole is awash with anxiety,
unsure of how to approach this new challenge, unsure if he really wants this assignment,
unsure of how his life has brought him to this place, so far away from what his
aspirations once were. And, even as his
mind races with questions, Hole spies a young boy in the crowded streets of New
York City who unnerves him.

The next morning Hole embarks on a
jet for England, a layover to visit his parents before continuing to
Russia. He spends a short time in London
before moving on to Sheffield, where his parents live, which leads him to
visiting the “Old Buildings” where he grew up.
All the while, the strange boy follows Hole, flitting among crowds and
down alleys while the older man pursues him—a futile enterprise. As Hole moves backward through his
life—through the places he’s lived—he revisits, in his mind, the most important
aspects of his life in those places: his
marriage, the subsequent divorce, a contentious break-up with the woman who
followed, and a childhood memory of burying insects alive, the guilt of that
act having trailed him ever since. In
the end, Hole is forced to come to grips with the life he has lived, how far
short he fell of his youthful ideals, and how culpable he is for all the
failings and faults that have overshadowed this life. In the end, Hole must make a decision, come
to grips with his life, and find a way to move forward.

Zarate’s artwork in this book is
just beautiful. He has a loose style
that borders on caricature without falling too heavily into that mode, with a
sense of color and shading that highlights pertinent aspects of a panel while
imbuing the whole narrative with a lushness found in too few comics. The coloring seems to be achieved through
watercolors, allowing for a wider range of hues. I’m unsure if it’s actually paint on the
boards or a different technique, but the results are masterful. Most of all, though, I love how distinct
Zarate’s art style is. It could not be mistaken
for anyone else’s, and that makes all the difference in this, one of Moore’s
most literary collaborations.

There are plenty more lesser-known
works from the Wizard of Northampton, including stories about Batman’s rogue,
Clayface, DC characters Vigilante and Omega Men, Marvel’s Captain Britain,
Image titles WildC.A.T.S and Spawn, as well as work with Dame Darcy and his collaboration
with Ian Gibson, Halo Jones. Any of these
would sit well on this list. What ones
would you include?

Monday, November 21, 2016

Conceived and used with the
permission of Matthew Constantine and Brad Gullickson, the original dorks.

Everyone has a “Top 5.” But Brad and Matt, along with fellow dorks,
Darren, Lisa, and Bryan, choose to walk a different path, and amended that to
“A Fistful…” with their blog and podcast, In the Mouth of Dorkness. Topics range from “Heroic Kids” to “Spies” to
“Summer Movies” to “Punches” to all things in between. Always fun, often insightful, and something I
have regularly pilfered for Warrior27.
As they say: If you’re going to steal, steal from those you know relatively well,
who will not sue you.

In the Dorks’ most recent episode—checkit, here—they counted down their top 5 “Happy Places,” and it was a great episode. Of course, it got me to thinking, what are my
favorite happy places, in film or television?
Define it as you will. In my
list, I have things that make me laugh, things that have a comforting
atmosphere, and things that take me back to my childhood and that inner happy
place we all harbor. Here’s what I came
up with.

5. The Flying Circus

I’m not one for comedies, and not one who laughs much. I enjoy things, even funny things, but (as I
say more than is necessary) I have a fairly narrow emotional spectrum—I rarely
get too high and rarely get too low. I
prefer drama and action to overt comedy (sure, sprinkle some funny moments into
those dramas, it’s vital to highlighting the really tragic things that can
happen in a good film or television series).
But, when I need a good laugh, there are some places that can guarantee me
that, even if I’m feeling down. Monty
Python is one of those shows.
Ever since I discovered it on MTV, while in high school, and right up through
today, the absurdity and incisive humor never fails to elicit rolling laughter
from me. John Cleese, Eric Idle, Terry
Jones, Michael Palin, Terry Gilliam, and Graham Chapman are perfect, if you’re
looking for some riotous laughs. And
sometimes, that’s exactly what we (and I) need.

4. Dillon, Texas

I have yet to see the film, but the TV series, Friday Night Lights, is
one of the best shows I have watched in recent years. The acting, the writing, the drama overlaid
onto these high school football players and the collection of classmates and
family members that surround them was phenomenal (putting aside a bit of that
second season). But, one of the best
aspects of this series was the characterization of Coach Eric Taylor and his
wife, Tami. If you were a player in
trouble, you could go to Coach. If you
were a student having troubles in school, you could go to Tami, the guidance
counselor. And if you were a young man
or woman in need of help outside these professional settings, the Taylors were
the family you could, and would, go to if you needed help. The Taylors—most epitomized in their relationship
as husband and wife—were two of the most genuine and complex characters on
network TV. And the idea of being able
to go to their house and hang out is a comforting idea, indeed.

3. That bar where everyone knows your name

In high school and through college,
Cheers
was my favorite TV show. We were so
lucky in our junior year at the University of Maine, we could watch it five
times on Thursdays, thanks to new episodes airing and the reruns on our local
NBC affiliate out of Bangor and the Boston channel, from our cable package, which
ran episodes in the early evening as well as after the nightly news. It was a smorgasbord of hilarity, with Carla,
Coach, Woody, Diane, Sam, Norm, Cliff, and the rest of the gang. It’s on Netflix currently, and I’ve been
dipping in and out when the mood hits.
It’s a show that always makes me feel good.

2. Hobbiton

I read The Hobbit in second grade (went on to read it more than a
dozen times since). I read The Lord of the Ringswhen
I was eleven or twelve (and read that a half dozen more times). J.R.R. Tolkien was my favorite author, and Rings
my favorite book, for many years, and Tolkien, along with his literary works,
still holds a special place on my metaphorical bookshelf. When Peter Jackson finally brought the land
of Middle Earth to the big screen, I was overjoyed. He got it so right (in the Rings
trilogy, at least), and the opening of that first film, in Hobbiton, was
amazing and beautiful. Ever since that
first time I read The Hobbit,
I’ve wanted to live in a hole in the ground, with a round, green door and a
brass knocker, just like Bilbo Baggins.
And after watching Jackson’s initial trilogy, that feeling became more
entrenched in my psyche. Hobbiton would
be a lovely place to live.

1. Tatooine

Since I was five and first saw it
in the theater, Star Wars has been a constant in my life. First with the original trilogy, then the
toys and comics, followed by magazines and novels, and even more comics, and
more films (most of those ones weren’t good).
Star Wars overwhelmed and enamored the five-year-old me, and
its hold hasn’t let up much in the intervening four decades. Empire may be the “best” film of the
series, but Star Wars (NOT episode IV, NOT Star Wars, colon, subheading “A New
Hope”) was the first movie, the one that started it all, and it is THE movie of
the trilogy that epitomizes everything I love about this series.
And Tatooine embodies that happy place for me.
I love the scenes with the Jawas, the first scenes with Luke—him gazing off at
the twin sunset…so good—and the attack of the Sand People, leading to the
introduction of Obi-Wan Kenobi, and, finally, the wretched hive of scum and
villainy that is Mos Eisley spaceport.
Watching Star Wars always takes me back to my childhood, like a shot,
and to my time with good friends—Donnie and Tommy, Sean and Jason, and so many
others—watching and playing and debating Star Wars and that galaxy far, far
away. Nothing hits my nostalgia button
as hard as Star Wars does. And
there is no happier place in the galaxy for me than Tatooine.

Friday, November 11, 2016

Conceived and used with the
permission of Matthew Constantine and Brad Gullickson, the original dorks.

Everyone has a “Top 5.”But Brad and Matt, choose to walk a different
path, amended that to “A Fistful…” over at their blog, In the Mouth of
Dorkness.A film-centric blog where they
also discuss comics and books and TV, these two regularly share their top 5,
ranging from “Heroic Kids” to “Spies” to “Summer Movies” to “Punches” to all
things in between.Always fun, often
insightful, and something I hope to regularly pilfer for Warrior27.As they say:If you’re going to steal, steal
from those you know relatively well, who will not sue you.

In honor of Veteran’s Day, in no particular order, here are
five of the best war comics from my collection.

5. Blazing Combat

Reprinting the legendary four issues of Blazing Combat, this Fantagraphics
collection includes all the stories written by Archie Goodwin, with artwork
from Wally Wood, John Severin, Frank Frazetta, Gene Colan, and Alex Toth.In the vein of EC, published by Warren, these
stories from the mid-1960s showed the horrors of war, in a manner not seen in
comics, or in much of popular culture.They are rightfully considered some of the best comics ever
produced.

4. Enemy Ace: War Idyll, written & painted by George
Pratt

In 1990, George Pratt brought back the classic DC comics
character, the Enemy Ace, but as a dying man in 1969.Interviewed by a reporter, who turns out to
have been a tunnel rat in Vietnam.In
the sharing of their stories, they discover an unexpected connection that will
lead to a truth both have been avoiding for a long time.With lush painted artwork from Pratt, this is
a beautiful, as well as a touching, story.

Eschewing previous continuity—while also being ignored by later writers—Owsley
and Gascoine’s series tells the story of an actual immortal soldier who is far
more cynical than the patriotic character created by Robert Kanigher & Joe
Kubert.With solid art from Gascoine and
a gripping story from Owsley (known today by the name Christopher Priest), this
is a classic war comic that rarely gets mentioned.But it should be.

2. Jack Kirby’s The Losers

Kirby created, defined, and redefined more comic book
characters and genres than any other artist or writer in the field, and his
Losers, written & drawn by “the King,” is possibly his best writing effort,
including Kamandi and his Fourth World saga. These comics are full-on Kirby,
with his dynamic artistry and storytelling on display, but when I first read
these, it was the words that jumped out at me.Missing are the stilted dialogue and the overreaching hyperbole found in
so much of his work.Not to denigrate
Kirby’s other writing efforts, which have a charm and excitement, but the
reading of these dozen war stories was so smooth and easy that it stood
out.Kirby was a WWII veteran, and he
infused this comic with those experiences, and maybe the reality of those
coupled with the weightiness of the subject matter inspired Kirby’s writing in
these.It’s definitely one of his finest
runs on a series.

1. Vietnam Journal by Don Lomax

This is one of my all-time favorite comic series.The combination of Lomax’s loose, moody artwork
with stories culled form his experiences in Vietnam resulted in something special.Touching, unvarnished, heart wrenching, and
mysterious, these comics, especially the first 16 issues, are incredibly
gripping.I cannot recommend this series
highly enough.Check herefor more on this amazing comic.